


Butterflies and Hunting Trips

by Wewheresobeautiful



Series: Butterflies, Honey and other Mishappenings [1]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Fluff, Magic Revealed, sometime in season 4-5, start of merlin/arthur relationship, very slight hints of percy/gwaine
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-27
Updated: 2015-11-27
Packaged: 2018-05-03 15:06:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,886
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5295986
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wewheresobeautiful/pseuds/Wewheresobeautiful
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It suddenly comes to his attention that making roses and butterfly's appear from nothing without so much as chatting a spell was not normal. But how was he meant to know? I mean he'd been doing it since he was a toddler.</p><p>Arthur just wanted a hunting trip with his friends he didn't expect to find out his best friend had magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Butterflies and Hunting Trips

Ever since he was a boy, creating creatures and objects from nothing was second nature. He would create blooms of baby’s-breath and rosemary for his mother on her birthday, flocks of butterflies to entertain Will on hot summers days at the lake and palm lit fires to illuminate his path in the dark winter nights. Gaius had been alarmed to say the least when he caught Merlin in his room, a small flock of blue butterflies circling around his head as he relaxed in bed before supper. He wasn’t aware a trick he had mastered as a toddler was such a complex piece of magic. Gaius had shown him books and diaries form Witches and Warlocks alike explaining and attempting to create stones and flora from nothing without much success. Merlin had studied these books, tucking the diaries and old leather bound books in every corner of his room to read in the dark of night under candlelight. He spent his days wondering why he could succeed at where so many more trained and old mages had failed. His musing had led to split bathwater, an upturned dinner dish or two and quite allot of split wine at feasts, but Arthur never questioned it, simply cutting him off with an insult before taking the bucket, tray or goblet from him before he ruined it anymore.

 

 

One of the very few times he put his musing to the side was on hunting trips. Arthur leading the knights out for a day and a night of brotherhood and fun; one of his very few pleasures as King. Merlin was of course commanded to trail along beside them to water the horses, prepare the campsite and of course prep and cook their kills. After discovering Merlin’s skill Gaius had made a rule to calm his waving nerves when his foster son was out of his sight and protection; every quest, hunting trip or solo mission Merlin was to send a butterfly. At dusk he was to send one small, blue butterfly to Camelot to assure Gaius he was alive and well and this hunting trip was no different.

 

 

The fire crackled softly in the center of the clearing as the rabbits Leon and Elyan had caught roasted on the makeshift spit, fat dripping into the fire and making it hiss as the flesh turned a soft golden brown. Merlin sat on the fat of a fallen tree, cutting carrots and spuds with a pocket knife over a pot of hot water, pre-heated by the fire as the knights cleaned and gutted the meat. Gwiane and Percy chatted on one side of the fire, sharpening their daggers, heads tilted to each other as they chatted and laughed quietly. Leon and Elyan took control of turning the meat and stoking the fire, each swapping stories of battles and bar fights. Merlin smiled watching them all as he cut the spuds into thick slices, scanning the laughing and smiling faces illuminated by the fire. His eyes roamed to a thick tree just on the outskirts of the fire light where Arthur was dozing off, thick blanket folded and tucked behind his head to cushion it, looking out among his friends around the fire, a content smile across his lips. Merlin mirrored his smile, watching the Kings eyes droop and head fall as he fell into a soft sleep, face softened and vulnerable as the knights’ chatter turned into background noise. Gwiane cheered as Leon announced the meat ready, taking it off the spit and nicking Percy’s sharpened dagger to slice off neat chunks of the meat. Merlin quickly spooning the softened vegetables into bowls, passing them to Leon to fill with meat to send around the group for supper. Merlin placed the Kings supper at his feet, using the toe of his shoe to dig a shallow hole and stealing Elyan’s stoking stick to shovel some red hot embers into his small hole before placing the Kings bowl over the top to stay warm as they all ate.

 

 

The plates piled up in front of Merlin, as per usual. He piled them all into the pot and picked it up by the metal handle, pots and bowls in one hands and the kings dinner in the other. On his way past the sleeping King he shook him awake, passing him the bowl with a nod and walked off towards the stream a few meters away from camp, jeers of ‘Sleeping beauty’ and the ‘princess finally awakening’ fading off behind him. He rinsed the pot and the bowls quickly, placing them against a rock to dry. Looking out across the water he saw the starts and moon reflected in the softly rippling surface. Leaning back on his elbows he looked up at the sky, aware that no one will notice him taking a bit longer to clean up. Smiling he cups his long fingers around his mouth, eye flashing a soft gold as he looks out across the water. The soft flutter of wings tickles his palms, the small creature fluttering around the small gaps between his fingers, eager to get out and fly. Letting his palms fall open he watches as the bright blue wings flutter out, beating against the gentle breeze as it flies off amongst the tree branches, the bright blue illuminated by the full moon. Smiling to himself he gathers the pots and bowls, using a rag to dry off the last few drops of water clinging to the polished wood and beaten meatal. Returning to the camp he tucks everything away in the horse’s saddles as they rest, tied up to a thick tree root. The knights where asleep, bellies full as they lay on their soft bedrolls, fire slowly dying out. Merlin looks around at their faces as he pulls out his own bed roll, laying across from Arthur, softly puffing air between his parted lips, his dirty bowl laying at his side. Laying down he rests his palm against the soft ground, feeling the soft breathing of the earth as he too falls asleep.

 

* * *

 

 

There was something on his mind, Arthur knew that much. All week Merlin had been drifting in an out, eyes going dazed in the middle of chores or conversations. That’s why he called the hunting trip, whilst he knew Merlin was far too soft to enjoy the sport of slaughtering animals he did enjoy the time away from Camelot, time to be more than a servant and a King, the nobles and the commoner. That’s why Arthur decided to take his dirty bowl to the stream, rather than wait for Merlin to return and send him back, that’s why he decided that on a hunting trip they we’re equals, the expectations of the Kingdom didn’t apply out here in the forest, he would take his bowl to Merlin rather than expect him to return for it. What he did not expect to see Merlin laying one the damp forest floor, booted feet dangerously close to the flowing water as he looked at the soft reflection of the sky on the stream. Arthur watched, smiling softly, hidden in the dark as gripped his bowl tight in one hand. He almost jumped as Merlin moved his hands, cupping them around his mouth, scared he had been spotted. In a reflex motion he slid behind a tree trunk, peeking out slightly to watch. Merlin’s fingers where long, softly cupped around his mouth as if there was a chill in the air. Merlin’s eyes flashed gold and Arthur gasped, hand instinctively reaching for his sword.

 

It couldn’t be, not Merlin. Clumsy, soft, wouldn’t hurt a fly Merlin. Arthur blinked, jaw tense as he watched Merlin pull his hands away from his face, still cupped loosely together. Eyes locked and body tense Arthur gripped the hilt of his sword tight, pulling it softly from his scabbard as Merlin opened his hands. Expecting something that would put him and his knights in danger, Arthur froze. A butterfly burst forth, wings flapping hard as it dove into the soft breeze of the night. Its wings where a vivid blue that Arthur had never seen before, bluer than the royal gowns, bluer than the jewels on his father’s crown. He watched it as it flew between the branches and disappeared into the sky.

 

Merlin, his merlin, had magic. His clumsy, his annoying, his disobedient Merlin had used his magic to create a butterfly, the most beautiful he had ever seen. Maybe, just maybe, Magic wasn’t bad. He let his grip on the sword slacken, the weight of the blade returning it snugly to its leather sheath. If Merlin could make something so delicate, so soft, so stunning, then maybe it wasn’t magic that corrupted. He could not imagine Morgana making such a creature, her heart was cold and closed off, to create such beauty the soul would have to be laid bare, the heart filled with glee. Perhaps it was the heart then that corrupted, perhaps the magic was just a tool, a method of distraction, like fire or swords, like catapults or arrows.

 

Arthur jumped as the clatter of bowls being knocked together pulled him out of his own mind, watching Merlin dry off the pots bottom and the bowls dips, stacking them neatly inside to carry back. Quickly he back tacked to the camp, dropping his bowl next to his bed roll with a clatter, pulling an annoyed groan out of Gwiane who rolled away from the noise. He unclips his sword, laying it next to him before pulling his gloves off and laying down in his bed roll, fainting sleep just in time as the sound of crunching sticks and soil as Merlin returns echo around the clearing. He takes in soft, deep breaths, listening to the clatter as Merlin tucks the dishes into the horse’s saddle bags, the rustle of his bed roll as he lays it out and the shuffling as he gets himself comfortable. He waits till he hears the familiar soft snores before opening his eyes, looking at his face, soft and relaxed as he sleeps, his fingers buried slightly in the soft dirt between them. Arthur looks at him, studying his face and listening to his breathing over the sounds of the dying fire, of Gwaine’s sleep chatter.

 

Its Merlin, his Merlin, the Merlin that pours his bath water and wakes him up with annoyingly cheery greetings, Merlin that brings him his favorite dinner when he’s had a hard day and distracts him at formal dinners with inane chatter and soft insults of visiting dignitaries. Merlin that has magic, Merlin that uses it to create vivid blue butterflies out of nothing, Merlin that chooses to create Beauty over fear.

 

He smiles softly, watching Merlin’s plump lips drop open to let out soft puffs of air into the warm night air. Arthur places his hand on the ground beside Merlin’s. Digging his fingers into the dirt in the same way and closes his eyes, feeling something like warm water wrap around his hands and up his wrist, tightening in a comforting manner as a hum runs through his fingers. Letting out a content sigh he drifts into a deep, comfortable sleep, his and Merlin’s hands shy of touching between their soft bed rolls.

**Author's Note:**

> My tumblr can be found here http://wewheresobeautiful.tumblr.com/ 
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this! My first of many hopefully
> 
> Thank you all for your support


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